


A Wonderland of Our Own Creation

by starrynoctsky (lightinthehall)



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Blindfolds, Established Relationship, Holiday Surprise, M/M, Post-Brotherhood, Snow
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-28
Updated: 2019-12-28
Packaged: 2021-02-19 01:47:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22003264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lightinthehall/pseuds/starrynoctsky
Summary: Ignis carefully lifts the covering back over his glasses, letting the darkness overtake his vision once again, heart fluttering as warmth presses close to his side and an arm slips around his waist.“I am in your hands, Highness.” Ignis allows his tone to dip into sultry warmth, rewarded by the quiet, hitched breath at his side. The corner of his mouth turns up, he can just imagine the adorable blush that is surely gracing Noctis’ cheeks.
Relationships: Noctis Lucis Caelum/Ignis Scientia
Comments: 13
Kudos: 52





	A Wonderland of Our Own Creation

**Author's Note:**

  * For [titansatemysoul](https://archiveofourown.org/users/titansatemysoul/gifts).



> Thank you to Salt, my eternally patient friend and beta.  
>   
> Written for titansatemysoul as a gift fic <3  
> 

“Okay, we’re almost there. Don’t worry.”

“I assure you, I’m not,” Ignis says, taking a few steps towards the sound of Noct’s voice. His foot hits a solid object, nearly toppling his balance before he catches himself. _Drat._ He nudges the silky fabric up from his eyes – he really has to ask Noctis why he owns something like this – and peers down at his feet.

Stairs.

“Ah Gods, sorry Specs.” A step above him, Noctis turns back, expression frantic and apologetic and radiating nervous excitement. Even with his eyesight half-obscured by a blindfold, the prince makes a charming view. “Alright. No more peeking. I’ve got you.”

Ignis carefully lifts the covering back over his glasses, letting the darkness overtake his vision once again, heart fluttering as warmth presses close to his side and an arm slips around his waist.

“I am in your hands, Highness.” Ignis allows his tone to dip into sultry warmth, rewarded by the quiet, hitched breath at his side. The corner of his mouth turns up, he can just imagine the adorable blush that is surely gracing Noctis’ cheeks.

They take each step slowly, Ignis permitting himself to lean into Noctis a little closer than strictly necessary, enjoying the way Noctis tightens his hold in response. It’s slightly unsettling, climbing the steps without his vision, that instant when he’s not sure where his foot will land. The sound of Noctis’ breathing grounds him, that steady presence at his side that he trusts more than anything in his life. If it comes down to it, Noctis could guide him in any direction with the mere touch of his finger if he so chose.

A certain prince had invited Ignis out for the evening; Noctis had been quite endearing, eyes bright with hope, idly rubbing the back of his neck as he stumbled over the invitation. He’d declined to provide any details, leaving Ignis to stew in his curiosity for the past few days.

The black crown-issued vehicle had dropped them off at the grand entrance of the Caelum Via. Ignis’ mind had run through the possibilities: a true jewel of the Crown city, the tower hosts several famous restaurants, and a grand hotel. They’d crossed the lobby, past the restaurants and straight to the opulent elevator doors.

As the elevator had begun its ascent, Noctis had produced the black blindfold from his pocket, and had shyly asked Ignis to wear it. The elevator rang a few musical notes as the doors opened again, and Noctis led him out. The elevator ride had been quite long – so not a suite then (which is a shame, the Via’s rooms are decadent and provide the perfect opportunity to explore the uses of blindfolds), leaving the rooftop as the most likely destination.

During the winter, the rooftop hosts one of the tallest wishing trees in the city, the verdant pine branches and the bright star of Shiva’s Grace adorning the top are visible for miles around.

If it’s a surprise rooftop dinner, he’d wished Noctis had warned him in advance to dress up for the _Via_. As it is, he’s outfitted for an evening off-duty rather than fine dining - a light, grey overcoat and black pants – warm enough for the unusually warm winter Insomnia has been having so far.

The city streets are disappointingly bare of any snow, and the forecasts predict that it’s unlikely the city will see snowfall until after the holidays. Another shame, despite his namesake, he’d always enjoyed the picturesque winter snowfall over Insomnia. The elegant white blanket of snow covering the festive adornments and colourful twinkling lights lining the streets brings back fond memories – his parents had always loved the way Shiva transformed the land. He still remembers every inch of their old home decorated for the holidays.

“It’s the spirit of the season,” he’d told Noctis after insisting they _try_ to be festive this year even though the weather isn’t cooperating. By the end of the day, the prince’s apartment had been decked with silver tinsel, complete with glittery baubles hanging along the walls to celebrate Shiva’s Grace. To complete the scene, two clumsily painted star-shaped ornaments had been hung on the small branches of their mini wishing tree.

These artefacts from their childhood had been gifts carved out of astral wood, a tree that grows in the northern forests of Lucis. One silver and the other gold, both are covered in sparkles. ‘Noct’ is painted across one with jagged letters, while its match has ‘Iggy’ scrawled over its centre.

They’re scratched and slightly faded, but they carry their share of wishes.

Noctis had offered to remake them at one point, but Ignis insisted they possessed a certain irreplaceable charm. Plus, the prince’s handwriting hasn’t improved much since then.

“That’s the last of the stairs, but keep the blindfold on,” Noctis instructs.

There’s an electronic whirr as automatic doors slide open, and Ignis is met with the cool evening air. A hand slips into his and Ignis squeezes it instinctively, his thumb caressing the patch of waxy skin over Noct’s pinky, still recovering from a burn the prince refuses to tell him about.

Possibly sensing the nature of Ignis’ thoughts, Noctis squeezes his hand in return, gently tugging him along. His anticipation has been building with every step, and Ignis is eager to uncover the surprise. Perhaps a private candlelit dinner? An evening watching the stars?

A palm presses flat to his chest and Ignis immediately stops where he stands. The warm hand leaves his, and Ignis resists the urge to chase after it blindly. That implicit instruction to _wait_ keeps him grounded, and he can sense Noctis is still close by. Limited to his hearing and sense of touch, he notices the distant sounds of city traffic, and the cool wind sweeping through his bangs. He tilts his head as the seconds draw out, listening closely to the soft rustling of Noctis’ jacket.

“Alright Specs. Count down from three for me.”

“Three,” Ignis says, his smile full of indulgence, straining his hearing for any hints. “Two.”

“One.” Suddenly, a sharper, _colder_ blast of wind rushes through his clothes, as tiny, cold flecks pepper the exposed skin of his cheeks. The wind eases, and the chill becomes more bearable.

“Okay, now you can look.”

Ignis eases the blindfold off. He’s greeted immediately by the sight of Noctis in front of him, between his palms is a round, glowing flask, blue light dancing through Noct’s fingers.

And there’s snow. Soft puffs of white gently falling around them.

Ignis reaches up in amazement, catching a few in his palm where the flakes land, watching as they melt into drops.

“I had Cor bring back a few rock shards from the deposits just outside Insomnia. I can’t conjure elemental spells without them yet, so…” Noctis shrugs, as if he isn’t performing a feat of magic right in front of Ignis’ eyes.

“Noctis…” Ignis is lost for words. He knew Noctis had started his elemancy training with his father, but the prince had declined to share how much progress he’d already made.

The already wondrous rooftop is transforming before his eyes, the snow falls steadily, starting to form a blanket of white upon the dome of the aquarium, the elegant balustrades and the lanterns lining the walkways. It catches upon the dazzling tinsel twisted around the boughs of the grand wishing tree, decorated with colourful, shimmering ornaments and hanging lights, green slowly covered by white.

It’s the holiday scene Ignis had wanted all along.

“It’s beautiful.”

He wonders how many citizens are looking up, wondering at the sight of snow falling softly over the Caelum Via.

However, it’s Ignis’ privilege alone to have this view of the prince. Noctis is especially lovely amidst the snowfall, the white landing upon the soft spikes of his dark hair, his cold-nipped nose and pinkened cheeks. The prince’s mist-blue eyes are cast downwards, likely trying to hide his embarrassment, but the small, sheepish smile gives him away.

Ignis pulls Noctis in by the waist, until they’re toe-to-toe and the flask is glowing icy-blue light between their chests. He watches as crystalline flakes land on the thick fan of the prince’s dark eyelashes, imagines kissing them away.

“How long have you been practicing?”

“I… might have turned Gladio into a snowman once or twice.” He doesn’t look the least bit sorry about it. Ignis would’ve enjoyed watching that session.

“Might teach him to stay in uniform,” Ignis chuckles. He rests their foreheads together, letting his hands encompass Noct’s, only to flinch in horror when his fingers meet Noct’s where they’re holding the flask. “Noctis, your hands are _freezing_.”

“It’s okay,” Noctis says, shuffling closer, and Ignis spots the small shivers wracking his frame. “It happens.”

Ignis frowns, wishing Noctis practiced a tad more self-preservation, and pulls his gloves out of his pocket. He takes each of Noctis’ hands and slips the leather onto cold fingers, pulling them down until they’re secure. The tips of the gloves are loose, but it will have to do.

“Is this why you’ve been getting burns on your fingers? From frostbite?”

He wants to sound scolding, but his oft-battled guilt rears its head, telling him that Noctis had been practicing elemental magic for _his_ sake. The prince injuring himself for the advisor. He tamps down the shame and guilt, knowing Noctis would never want him to think of it that way.

“Not really frostbite,” Noctis assures him, the liquid blue of his eyes filling with remorse and staring up at him with his best _Forgive me?_ look.

Ignis sighs, closing his hands around Noct’s, sharing his warmth. With His Majesty’s health waning by the day, they’ve been becoming more and more familiar with the cost of Lucian magic. Noctis is destined to inherit all of that one day, the power and the pain, but Ignis will be there to shoulder such burdens with him, _for_ him, if need be.

His train of thought is interrupted when Noctis snuggles in closer. He turns his face upward in an almost measured angle, giving Ignis the full treatment of his pout.

“Gonna warm me up?” Ah, and then there’s _this_ power. The prince drawing Ignis in with the mere tilt of his head.

“Gladly,” Ignis responds, leaning down to soothe the downturn of Noct’s mouth.

A few of the snowflakes clump together, the tiny, crystalline stars landing upon the pink of Noctis’ lips. Envious of their luck, Ignis chases them, the cool flakes rapidly melting between the heat of their mouths. The cool tip of Noctis’ nose nudges against Ignis, fog spreading across his glasses at every exchange of hot breath.

The kisses are new. After finally crossing the distance between childhood friends and _more,_ they’ve been a tad addicted to trading… affections. 

Ignis groans at the slip of Noct’s tongue, between his lips, against his own. He drowns himself in the taste of cinnamon and spiced wine, and that hint of flavour that is simply Noctis. 

Noctis surges forward, one hand clinging to the lapel of his jacket and dragging Ignis down. He’s asking for more with every nip of his teeth upon Ignis’ bottom lip, and Ignis happily obliges, the flask digging into his chest as he holds Noctis closer.

The wind whips up around them, frigid air chilling him underneath his jacket, the snow turning into pelting ice, sharp against his exposed skin. A sudden gust of wind hurls a chunk of snow at their faces, Noctis bubbling a laugh against his lips before he breaks away.

The violently dancing blue light between his palms dims as the snow gentles once again. “Sorry, sorry.”

Cold sleet drips down the side of Ignis’ face and he shakes his head as he kneels down. “I find that rather unfair, Highness.”

“What do you mean – oh no, Specs don’t you _dare_ – ” Noctis looks up from the flask to spot Ignis and scrambles backwards, but it’s too late. Ignis’ snowball arcs through the air and hits Noctis in the shoulder.

“That’s _treason,_ Advisor! Do you hear me – oh my Gods that’s not fair I can’t use my hands - ” Noctis is wheezing with laughter as he twists away, another snowball hitting him square in the back. His outraged yelling and laughter echoing across the empty rooftop. “Oh wait -!”

Landing hits upon Noctis’ arm, and then a particularly well-aimed ball lobbed at the seat of his jeans, Ignis advances upon him, his target weakened by laughter and the barrage of snow. He stops in his tracks when the blue light between Noctis’ hands flares into brightness, casting a sinister light over the prince’s mischievous smile.

The flask shatters.

Violently swirling ice and snow surround them both and Ignis must bring his hands up to shield his face as he’s engulfed by the blizzard. He can barely make out Noctis’ dark figure a few feet away, the snow building up against his glasses, covering his face, arms and legs.

The roaring of the wind dies in an instant and Ignis brings his snow-laden arms down in time to get tackled, his feet slipping on the frozen ground as he grapples with Noctis. They skate back a few steps before Ignis’ foot slips from under him, dragging Noctis down by the jacket as he goes. Noctis lands with an _oof_ on top of him, still shaking with laughter.

Winded and a little sore, Ignis stares up at the weight pinning him to the ground. Noctis grins down at him, waving an object in front of his face.

“I win,” Noctis informs him proudly.

Ignis scoffs and retrieves his glasses, shaking off the last of the dripping snow. “Quite impressive, Highness. And it only took the magic of the Lucii to do it.”

“All’s fair.”

“You’re impossible,” Ignis says, not for the first time, but always with that undeniable note of fondness, gently brushing snow out of Noctis’ dark hair. Two gloved hands cup Ignis’ cheeks, tilting his face to meet his in a sweet kiss that warms Ignis to the core.

They break apart, and Noctis rests his head onto Ignis’ chest, arms snaking around his waist. Ignis returns the embrace, content to hold him even while lying in the snow. He stares up at the vast night sky, clear and uninterrupted above them, a few of the stars shining through the magical barrier of the wall.

Ignis traces soothing circles over Noctis’ back, his heart feeling lighter having the weight of the prince above him, within his arms. He’s quiet now, the rhythm of his breaths suggesting he’s on the precipice of sleep. Noctis must be exhausted from sustaining the magic for that much time.

Ignis can’t help but think of the days when they’d chased each other around the snowy Citadel courtyard, Noctis often having to retire to his wheelchair when the pain and fatigue set in. “You’ve grown so strong, Noct.”

He expects some sort of cocky comment, Noct playing off the compliment as he usually does. For a moment, Noctis is silent.

“One day I’ll have to use that strength against Niflheim,” he says finally, lifting his hand and closing it into a fist.

It’s a sobering thought. The truth of it is undeniable, they can’t forget that all of Noctis’ training is for the greater goal of winning a centuries-old war. After the king, the prince is Lucis’ greatest weapon against the forces plotting against them. Now that the prince has graduated high school and entered training full-time, the reminder of their enemy looms even closer over them.

“Well, I hope that you won’t be subduing them with kisses as well.”

Noctis snorts, casting his gaze away, his blue eyes heavy with the gravity of his future duty. Even after all the cruelty Niflheim has put them through, has put _Noctis_ through, the prince still hesitates to seek vengeance against them. His fear is understandable, to be expected, but it’s Noctis’ gentle heart that stays his hand in the council’s war rooms. It’s that kind-heartedness Ignis wishes to preserve for as long as possible.

“You’ll be there to make sure I won’t,” Noctis says with a half-hearted smile.

“I will,” Ignis promises, covering Noctis’ fist with his own hand. “Always.”

They will face it all together.

“That reminds me…” Noctis sits up, reaching into his jacket pocket and retrieves two small stars – painted silver and gold.

Ignis’ eyes widen with recognition. “Are these -?”

“Sort of. They’re not going to replace the ones we have at home. And I know we’ve already hung our wishes up. But I’m the prince, and I say we get extra wishes.”

He places them within Ignis’ palm, each with a loop of dangling string attached to one of the star points. Painted in the centre of one is a solid blue fish, while the other depicts a thin, sideways figure-eight.

“…Glasses?”

“Specs for Specs,” Noctis shrugs, feigning another pout. “And now you can’t make fun of my writing.”

Ignis chuckles, touching each symbol. They’re perfect.

Noctis stands, brushing snow off himself and reaching out to help Ignis up. They pass the mounds of snow that had formerly been benches, and the lamp posts jagged with columns of ice. Luckily, the illuminated wishing tree seems to have been spared the brunt of the attack, the ice hanging from its boughs only adding to its winter beauty. Unfortunately, some of the ornaments lay broken on the snowy ground.

“At least there’s room for ours now?” Noctis asks sheepishly. “Wanna do the honours?”

Ignis does. He turns one over in his hands, appreciating the care that went into the crafting and the paint when he sees the small, carved _I love you_ into the back. Heart caught in his throat, he quickly glances at Noctis, who seems to be studiously observing a random blue and green bauble hanging off the closest branch.

Ah… so it shall stay secret. Noctis can’t say the words out loud yet, but he wants to, and that’s enough for Ignis. For now, he traps his own response upon his tongue.

For now…

“One more thing,” Ignis says, getting Noctis’ attention. The prince glances over, a nervous knit to his brow. He’s still so shy. Ignis merely smiles and slips the ornament strings together, letting the loops intertwine. He holds it aloft for Noctis to see and secures the tie to the chosen branch, their stars flashing gold and silver as they twirl in time together.

“Make a wish.”

Noctis touches the stars first, stepping back to let Ignis do the same, a brief brush of his fingertips upon the blue fish and the thin spectacles. He and Noctis watch them spin, the colourful lights catching upon the glitter, just two little stars, two entwined hearts.

Ignis feels light, happy, loved. All greater gifts than anyone else could bestow. Full of gratitude, Ignis leans down to press his lips upon Noct’s brow.

“This evening was wonderful. Thank you Noctis.”

“Not done yet.” Noctis reaches for Ignis’ hand, squeezing it tight within his own. “I booked us a room.”

Ignis truly, truly loves this man.

“Well then. Come now, Noct,” he says, pulling Noctis back towards the staircase. “I have other ideas for this blindfold of yours.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading!  
>   
>  **Twitter:** [@starrynoctsky](https://twitter.com/starrynoctsky)


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